


Intervention

by WickedWanderer



Series: First Impressions [2]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Crack, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, but only the slight angst that is inherent in Malcolm Bright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24112723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedWanderer/pseuds/WickedWanderer
Summary: Malcolm’s friends and family do what they do best- meddle in his life.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel
Series: First Impressions [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739791
Comments: 3
Kudos: 65





	Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> The comments on my last fic physically forced me to write this. I had no choice in the matter. It’s gonna be a whole series. Look out. Also I’m experimenting with spacing to make these more readable.

JT had finally started to wear short sleeves again. Sure, he paired them with a bandage over his soulmate mark and a withering glare for his soulmate, but Malcolm still considered that progress.

Gil had given him the Talk. It went something like this: Okay, your soulmate turned out to be one of the detectives under my command. Okay, your first words to each other were less than ideal. And yeah, sure, he might still be a little on the fence about actually killing you. But mark my words- if you let this get in the way of the job, not only will you never consult again, you’ll wish he had killed you.

So they didn’t talk at work. They also didn’t talk outside of work. JT was remarkably good at covert movement for such a large man, and Malcolm was finding it impossible to get him alone.

“He probably just needs some time to adjust,” offered Dani. JT had just come the closest he ever did to Malcolm (two feet), slammed some files on the table, and was gone before he looked up. Malcolm was pouting.

“Is there something wrong with me?” He asked. Then he reconsidered the question.

“Scratch that. Is there something wrong with me besides the obvious?” Dani rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know, Bright. I’ll talk to him.” She clapped him on the shoulder and followed JT out.

Ainsley had an opinion. She always did.

“It’s probably just gay panic,” she declared, sipping her smoothie. Her brother glared at her.

“That’s no excuse to avoid me completely. He’s not even being civil. The only thing he said to me last week was, ‘Are we sure he’s not the killer?’ That wasn’t even to me, that was to Dani. It was just about me.” Ainsley watched her brother carefully. He was talking with his hands again. It made it look like his arms were going to fly off at the shoulder.

“You’re really upset about this, aren’t you?” Malcolm sighed.

“Yeah. I guess I am.”

“Don’t worry, Mal. I’m sure it’ll all work out for the best.” She smiled sweetly and walked away. His head whipped around to follow her.

“Wait, Ainsley! You’ve got your sneaky face on, what’re you- Ainsley!” How she could run faster than him in high heels was beyond him.

“Oh, darling, you mustn’t get worked up about it.” His mother’s voice was like a poison tablet coated in honey. If he didn’t already have nightmares, that tone of voice would do the trick.

“This man- how do you know him?” Oh god. Oh no.

“Mother, you will not be speaking to him.” He tried to imagine that conversation. There would be bloodshed.

“Malcolm. Let me help you,” she purred. Could lions purr?

“Absolutely not. I’ve already said too much. I’m going home, and we’re not talking about this again.” He rose unsteadily to his feet. Had she gotten him drunk on purpose? Not that it took much- he’d started talking about JT half a glass in.

“I’ll have Adolpho bring the car around.” He was vaguely aware of her giving orders on the phone before she got up to take his arm and walk him to the door.

“Goodnight, dear. Do sleep well.” He muttered something, staggering down the steps and towards the car. He almost didn’t catch her words before the door clicked shut.

“Ainsley! Darling-“ He was going to be sick.

At least, Malcolm reflected gloomily, he didn’t have any other friends or family to pester JT. Or at least any who could contact him. If his father started calling the detective from Claremont, his heart might actually give out.

“JT! My office- now.” Gil’s voice cut across the bullpen. Malcolm didn’t bother to look up. Right. He’d forgotten one.

Ten minutes later, a shadow fell over his desk. It was probably too much to hope that it was death coming for him. He looked up.

JT was pissed.

“Bright. Where do you live?” Several potential outcomes flitted through his mind.

“Are you going to kill me?” He asked meekly.

“I guess you’ll find out. Text me your address.”

Malcolm buzzed him up and unlocked his apartment door. He was waiting (definitely not hiding) behind the kitchen counter when JT stalked in.

“If one more member of the Malcolm Bright fan club comes to see me, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“I see we’ve skipped past ‘hello.’ I’m making tea. Would you like some tea?” JT shook his head, taking a seat.

“I don’t like tea.” Not a good sign, but he let him continue. He looked a bit distraught.

“Edrisa is this close to locking us in a room together. I don’t know how she even got my number, but every morning I wake up to a Bright fun fact. Did you know a true crime fan site said you were the sexiest profiler alive?” Here he finally met Malcolm’s eyes in bewildered desperation.

“I didn’t.” He did. He absolutely did. Ainsley had sent him a link.

“There was a poll. You beat out Spencer Reid, whoever the hell that is,” he dropped his head onto the counter and groaned.

“Your mom is scary, man.”

“I did know that.” Malcolm leaned against the counter.

“I’m sorry. I tried to tell them to stay out of it, but...” he shrugged, trying to indicate his total lack of control over his family’s actions.

“It’s-“ JT sighed and looked up at Malcolm.

“Bright. What are we gonna do about this?” He waved a hand between the two of them. Malcolm tried a smile.

“Dinner?” He said hopefully. JT considered this, frowning.

“You’re really weird, Bright. I just didn’t picture my soulmate being some twerp who’s favorite thing in the world is a fresh crime scene.” Malcolm would have taken more offense at this if it weren’t objectively true.

“And I didn’t picture mine being a meathead who’s scared of his own emotions,” he shot back. JT glared at him. He pushed back from the counter, starting towards the door.

Malcolm’s heart leapt when he turned around.

“Seven o’ clock tomorrow night. I’ll come here. If you take me somewhere fancy...” he grinned.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, Malcolm just stands there staring into space after JT leaves, until the kettle starts whistling. I love writing from his POV. Truly, is there anyone in the world more dramatic?


End file.
